"Place your canned juices properly in the fridge for a delicious taste."
What about those who don't pay the electricity bills?
They can only enjoy it in a limited way.
This is what happens.
"My lord editor, why did you reject it?"
"Show me your ass and I'll consider it."
A complete and crushing rejection.
Twenty ways for a writer to just throw what they do in the trash.
"You can go to hell with your opinion."
This is life; what you see is always the opposite of what others see.
"Get out of here."
In other words, you can watch a comedy
play... without laughing.
"I'll kill you, you scoundrel..."
And you can watch an action movie about a duck's struggle for power and feel the blood pumping in your veins.
"Hahahaha, you want to try it...?"
On the other hand... you can write erotic harem stories... and not feel false satisfaction.
"Are you saying the protagonist should have all the beautiful girls? Is he Genghis Khan?"
And you can write a chaste love story... and the editor will simply reject you.
"Your story can't succeed."
And I'll say:
"Go to hell with your opinion."
Can we expect a vagrant to win at the Olympics?
"Yes, in a dream..."
And if he wins...
"Then you have to wake up to work and pay your electricity bills first, or you won't be able to drink the juice."
Is this really fair?
"I am the law here."
So we can all revolt against the law. Is there anyone with me?
Just cowards.
After a hundred years of hard work, you can achieve your dreams in the grave... This is the only truth you can admit.
A year ago, Lauren Phillip uploaded his vulgar novel to a platform...
Its success was guaranteed at the beginning... Why?
"What do you want...? A harem...? It's there... Heroines with a lot of juice... they're countless... An invincible hero...? He's the best from the start."
Isn't that enough...?
"...What about... an academy... with the addition of the magic element? All men are oppressed except for the alpha protagonist who subjugates all the heroines."
You don't read this, put a review, and pay your money? Where else will you put it but in another harem novel?
Look carefully and see how it is different in imitating all that is common.
Look at what you will get back from my support other than immense benefits.
"So why do you reject it? The heroines are not attractive? Or should I just add a lot of perversion for everyone to feel satisfied?"
The reply came quickly.
"Author Lauren... don't hope to continue the contract, you can just start over."
If that is the case...
Just destroy the world you created...
Burn, kill... destroy, start wars, destruction, and rape.
The heroines turn into Yuri.
What about the females on the entire planet disappearing...? What about the protagonist dying of sorrow...?
"Die all of you, along with the editor..."
"Heh... heheh... heh..."
I laughed with a fragmented, aristocratic laugh, raising my stupid head to the sky... or the ceiling.
The time difference is what's important here.
Okay, what were we saying?
"Damn the editor!"
The least of it.
A year from my current time, I spent ten days off work writing a silly draft of a novel whose goals were profitable: a harem, a hero, and some clichés here and there. A successful formula = readers = money.
No hard work, no great effort, no creativity... just glue.
Or so I thought... In fact, after a long time, I was chased by editors to write more chapters daily for a week.
Away from my family at university, in a student apartment, working part-time and writing two chapters daily, I ended up...
Cursing the editor.
What about today, and tomorrow, and yesterday, you scoundrel?
A year after this...
"Shouldn't a fly come out of the wallet?"
Completely empty of money.
"The time is midnight... I finished today on time."
Completely empty of time.
"This girl is beautiful, let's get to know her... Seriously, do you really know that no, on the contrary, it means..."
No comedic ability, not even the ability to form relationships.
And all this because of the editor... Damn the editor.
A complete failure… you could call it that, or simply discover it for yourself.
When I finally decided to write the last chapter of the novel—after destroying the world, slaughtering the characters, and bringing it all to an end—
Now, with the final chapter published, you could finally say I felt… a deep, suffocating relief.
"Nooooooo!"
What the hell…?
"You bastard, you wouldn't dare—"
Suddenly, the dorm room door burst open.
A boy around his age stormed in like a crazed zombie, grabbing him by the neck from behind.
"Wha—ugh, let go! You're choking me here!"
"I don't care, bastard. Just die already!"
What the hell was this lunatic doing…?
"This is my revenge… for Elinor, you heartless bastard!"
What? This guy's brain had seriously been fried…
"L-let's just talk this out—"
"No talking. Just die right here!"
After nearly ten minutes of the two roommates wrestling like stray cats… the madness finally cooled down a little.
"Are you insane? What the hell were you doing?!"
"I haven't gotten my justice yet… I haven't had my revenge… you pile of shit!"
This guy—Milosh. One of the biggest fans of his novel. He had practically worshipped one of the heroines, molded after his very own preferences. His obsession had long surpassed real, three-dimensional women. He had fallen for his own fictional waifu.
But when the author—out of spite—decided to kill her off at the end of the novel… this lunatic was now standing right here, fueled by rage.
"For Elinor…"
He lifted a chair with both hands, aiming to smash it down on him.
"She's just a character, you idiot… fiction, nothing but fiction!"
"How dare you even speak her name… Aaaargh!"
"How dare you even speak her name… Aaaargh!"
With veins popping out of his neck, Milosh swung the chair down like some medieval executioner.
"Wait, wait, WAIT! We can fix this! I'll write a spin-off! A fan-service chapter! Hell, I'll even write a kissing scene for her!"
"Too late! You killed her in the last chapter! The trauma… the PAIN… it's eternal!"
The chair came crashing down—
BANG!
—but instead of smashing his roommate's skull, it missed completely and shattered the desk instead. The poor laptop sitting there buzzed violently, the screen glitching with neon colors like it was possessed.
"What the hell did you do?! That was my only laptop!"
"You mean… the sacred altar where Elinor's soul was imprisoned?"
The laptop sparked once… twice… and then—
BZZZZZT-BOOOOOM!!!
A blinding flash filled the dorm room as the laptop exploded in both their faces.
"AAAAAAARGH!!"
And just like that...both author and obsessed fan were sent straight to the afterlife… courtesy of cheap batteries and unresolved plotlines.
The final chapter ended not with redemption or glory… but with two idiots dying in a secondhand dorm room fireball.
Game over.